Heartburn
by sventastic
Summary: Smoker decides to follow a tip Ace gives him about a rogue Devil Fruit user wreaking havoc on a small island on the Grand Line. However, her powers cause some problems for the short-tempered Commodore... SmokerxAce


**CHAPTER ONE**

--

_Flamma fumo est proxima. _

_A flame is nearest to smoke._

_(__Plautus, Curculio 53)_

--

There was an idiot in his porthole.

He felt a vein on his forehead twitch. The fact that it was a _familiar_ idiot worsened the situation. Said idiot was now grinning cockily at him and tapping distractingly on the glass.

Smoker averted his eyes and continued working on slaying the paperwork beast menacing his desk. He was weeks (perhaps even months) late, and it was slowly growing larger and larger, consuming his innocent pens and other things of a similar nature. If luck was with him, the incessant tapping would cease and he would finally vanquish the evil monster and free his stationary citizenry.

The commodore decided that luck was never with him once the tapping evolved into louder and infinitely more irritating pounding, and he stalked angrily over to his porthole. Smoker opened it but stood firmly in front of it to prevent his 'visitor' from entering.

"PORTGAS!" he barked. "WHY ARE YOU IN MY PORTHOLE?" The brat had the gall to keep grinning and the cigar smoke above Smoker's head visibly darkened.

"Aww... what's wrong with visiting a friend? And I wouldn't be in your porthole if you had let me in earlier," Ace replied cheekily. "So it would be _really_ great if you let me in now, because my arms are getting rather tired..."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just kick your sorry ass into the ocean right now," Smoker threatened. "I have paperwork to slaughter."

Ace opened his mouth to say something witty... for example, "with the power of Justice?" (And maybe mention lunch... he was getting hungry too...) Then he saw the smoke hovering ominously above his favourite Marine's head and wisely reconsidered (although his stomach protested). Who knew cigars could work better than mood rings? "I have some 'pirate business' to share with you," he stated simply. His arms _were_ starting to ache and he didn't fancy a swim... because he _couldn't_, really... not anymore anyway...

Smoker sighed and (grudgingly) stepped aside to allow the pirate entry. Ace promptly clambered in, eyes widening at the behemoth devouring Smoker's desk. "You know, I could just burn it all for you," he offered out of pity.

"Tempting, but no," Smoker sighed, collapsing into his chair. He resisted the ridiculously strong urge to fling the brat overboard when the quiet snores started.

When was it that Smoker had started allowing this particular pirate aboard his ship? When was it that seeing Portgas' face through his window became commonplace? When did it start becoming alright for the pirate commander to stay for the occasional meal? When did his crew start laughing with, talking with and befriending _Whitebeard's second_? And most importantly, when did Smoker stop minding his presence?

_No_, he reminded himself, _I _still_ mind, like right now_. The snores were beginning to grate on his nerves. None too gently -- he had a reputation to salvage... no, no, keep, _keep_ a reputation to _keep_ (there was no need to salvage... yet) -- Smoker 'nudged' Ace in the side with a large booted foot.

"Portgas! Give me your information or I'm kicking you off my ship," Smoker grumbled, disgruntled that his paperwork-killing plans were once again foiled by a narcoleptic imbecile. It was slightly degrading, not that he'd ever mention it.

The snores continued.

Smoker kicked harder.

Ace jerked awake while mumbling curses, feeling the same disorientation he felt every time his spontaneous naps were interrupted. "You're so mean Smokey," he whined. "There are nicer ways to wake people up. Your foot is _hard_."

"Deal with it. Remember, you're on _my_ ship, stupid pirate."

"Remember, it's your very _flammable_ ship, stupid marine."

"Screw you Portgas," Smoker growled. His eyebrow twitched when Ace smiled innocently at him. "Tell me what you know _now_, or you're not getting any lunch." Wait... did he just offer lunch to a pir--

"Sure thing Smokey!" Ace said, beaming at the prospect of a free meal (eat and runs didn't count...). "But can I eat _first_? I'm _really_ hungry." As if to support him, his stomach loudly voiced its complaints about its lack of food.

"Fine," Smoker said resignedly, rising from his chair. The sooner Portgas ate, the sooner he'd leave his presence. And the sooner he left his presence, the sooner he'd finish his damn paperwork. He was just too tired to deal with brats... it wasn't like he was getting soft or anything... Smoker banished that disturbing train of thought to a dark corner of his mind, where other nightmarish memories were sent, like that one involving Garp... which he really didn't want to think about (ergo the brain exile). Focus on getting rid of Portgas, focus on getting rid of Portgas, focus on getting rid of Portgas...

"Just let me warn our cook first..." he finally stated, leaving the room.

Smoker wondered dryly how Ace could inhale so much food as the pirate in question finished off his fifth plate and politely asked for more. He scowled when his cook complied with Ace's request, and he decided that Portgas was _definitely_ getting too familiar on his ship. Even _the cook_ no longer froze in terror when the words "Fire Fist", "wants", and "food" were put in the same sentence, especially when in that particular order. Observant crew members in his vicinity warily inched away as Smoker's mood darkened along with the telltale cloud of smoke slowly filling the room. Trying to be polite to a pirate was difficult, especially when he had no motivation to do so. After all, Portgas was eating _his_ food on _his_ ship... which was... flammable...

Smoker very nearly roared and settled with slamming the table. "Are you _finished_ yet?" he asked exasperatedly as Ace annihilated his seventh helping of food. "We still need to talk and I still have paperwork!"

Ace set down his fork and blinked at the sudden and slightly unsettling outburst. "Yeah, I'm done now. Thanks for the food, cook-san," he added, bowing slightly to his benefactor.

"Talk," Smoker said, biting down hard on his abused cigars. The pirate commander took one look at Smoker's mood-meter (oh Lordy that was one ticked off Marine), suppressed a flinch, and then felt great relief that he, for once, did _not_ fall asleep in his food. He might not have woken up...

"I heard some rumours about a pirate messing around on an island nearby. Actually, she's not really a pirate per se, but she's still a criminal. Seems like she somehow 'brainwashes'—", he raised both his hands and wiggled two fingers on each, "-- people into becoming her underlings. The same people never stick around for very long... I'm not sure why..." Ace took off his hat and scratched his head. "Do you think that maybe she's a Devil Fruit user?"

"Could be," Smoker grunted. "It's not like the Grand Line follows any sort of logic. If this woman can 'brainwash' people into becoming her underlings, why has she managed to keep such a low profile? That sounds like a very useful and easily exploited ability, so why have the Marines never heard of her before?"

"I was wondering that too," Ace admitted, idly tapping the tabletop with his fingers. "I thought that maybe it was because she had just recently eaten her Fruit, but after asking around, it seems like she must have eaten at least a year ago. With such influential powers it would've been pretty unlikely to stay unnoticed. I mean, even my brother got his bounty pretty quickly," he added, grinning at the irritated Commodore. Oh, it sure was fun to annoy him... potentially dangerous to be sure, but _very_ fun.

"So there are only a couple of plausible situations left," Smoker declared. "One is that nobody has found out about it because she's ridiculously good at erasing her tracks, probably by silencing people involved. Or, she doesn't use her powers very often."

"Bullshit," Ace snorted derisively.

"Yes, I think so too," Smoker agreed. "So the situation I'm thinking most probable is that this whole story has been blown out of proportion. Most likely she _can_ influence people's actions to some degree, but the complete 'brainwashing' is probably nonsense spawned from gossiping people with too much time on their hands."

"Are you still going to check it out?" Ace asked curiously. Maybe he could tag along a little bit longer (for the food)...?

"Just to be on the safe side." Smoker stood up to leave the table, but stopped when he realized he had forgotten to say something rather important. Unfortunately, Ace interrupted him before he could start talking.

"Not letting my hard work go to waste? How sweet of you," the oddly childish pirate said, smiling cockily.

"You are not coming with me," Smoker interjected quickly before any more interruptions appeared. The brat actually _pouted_ (was he really twenty years old?!) and crossed his arms. "I'm being serious. I do not want you in my vicinity any longer than I have to. Technically speaking, I shouldn't have to tolerate you at all. You should be in my brig. In seastone cuffs."

Ace glared, uncannily resembling the recipient. "You are taking me with you. You can't get there without me anyways. I haven't told you which island she's on yet," he stated smugly. Even without the obvious visual cues, Ace knew he had _really_ pushed his luck with that declaration. It was a good thing that he had an abundance of good fortune. It ran in the family.

Smoker seriously pondered why he put up with Portgas. He could always acquire information in other ways... more _conventional_ ways, like espionage (which wasn't really conventional now that he thought more about it). By using marines who fought in the name of Justice, not Whitebeard pirates trying to weasel a free meal out of conveniently located ships. But Smoker knew that the Navy was becoming less and less like what he had signed up for all those years ago, and that _one_ certain Whitebeard pirate understood more or less why he left his post in Roguetown. So after several long and tense minutes, a rather strangled, venomous, and very begrudging "fine" was heard.

"Thanks a bundle Smokey!" Ace exclaimed, walking past the Marine and towards the door. "See you at dinner."

A startled pirate was flung bodily onto the deck a few seconds later.


End file.
